HiJack Week Summer 2013 - Renoku's Submissions
by Renoku
Summary: A contimplation of my HiJack Week one-shots for you all to enjoy. The prompts are from the Tumblr blog for HiJack Week. Hope you like them! Warning: Most are PG , but some cross into the T area. Keeping the rating as PG however.
1. Day 1 - First Date

**A/N**: So I'm compiling all of my pieces for HiJack Week here for you all! :) Hope you enjoy! Each are based on the prompts on the Tumblr blog, and each of the chapter titles are the prompts. Most are rated PG, but there are some Teen ones. I'm keeping the rating K+ however. Just be warned!

~Renoku

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**Day 1**

Hiccup reached to the helmet on his head, pulling it off as his long hair fell out. He shook it to its usual messy look, only half-satisfied. Nervousness entered the pit of his stomach, but he swung his leg back over the bike, stepping off gently. A streetlight flickered on; Hiccup looked past it, the electric buzz adding to the symphony of the street, at the sun beginning to fall past the horizon. Hiccup appreciated the longer nights that arrived with winter, taking his time to bask in the cool air.

He took a breath – now or never.

His prosthetic leg tripped over the curb.

He landed on his side with a curse, scrambling back up quickly. He brushed himself, seeing no severe damage, although he could already feel the bruise on his hip starting to build up. A quick look down the street confirmed that no one saw his blunder, and he huffed, setting his shoulders forward with a determined stance.

He marched up to the dull red door of the house. The mailbox set into the wall simply read _"Santoff Claussen"_, and it nearly overflowed with papers. The sight stunned Hiccup for another moment, and he gazed around him at the singular home. Above him arched a small patio roof, and below him the walkway up to the door was laid with brick. The letters sprawled across the rusty colored surface. Hiccup bent down, gathering a few up.

_To: Santa Clause  
Santoff Claussen – North Pole  
Burgess, PN 570_

With his eyebrows furrowed, he looked back up at the house, letting his gaze drift around it. _Santa Clause_, he wondered, _then that means…_ His eyes fell on the oriel window protruding on the front of the house. Snowflake designs embroidered the thin curtains, made transparent by the yellow lighting shining through the window. Dark shapes of pillows on the window seat littered the bottom of the frame, but dominating the picture was the silhouette of a person, a familiar figure – thin, male, with a cowlick of hair sticking up at the front, and bony shoulders not yet filled in to their width. As Hiccup watched those shoulders shook with a quiet laugh, and he felt that piercing stare on him.

A small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, and Hiccup raised a fist to knock at the door, drawing his attention back to the wooden entrance. His knuckles barely tapped at the paint before it swung open, pulled back by a large, meaty hand.

Hiccup's eyes widened as he trailed that hand up the even larger arm decorated with tattoos, to the face of a very menacing man. A large white beard bristled in intimidation, hiding roughened cheeks and chapped lips, and hard blue eyes bore down on the poor boy, bearing a strong familial resemblance to another.

The silence stretched between the two, and Hiccup nearly broke from the tension. He snapped his eyes away first, flicking them down to the letters still in his hand.

"Oh!" he thrust them out at the man's chest, "Here's some of your mail. There's… a lot of it."

The man only glanced down at the letters, before replying, "I like to get own mail, thank you." His voice was gruff, and carried a strong Russian accent. He accepted the mail from Hiccup anyway, tapping them into organization on his palm. "You must be Hiccup."

"Ah, yes, I am. It's nice to meet you, Mister…"

The big man held out his platter of a hand, and said, "I am North. It is a pleasure to meet you also. Jack has said good things about you."

Hiccup took the hand, attempting a firm shake, and his eyes widened at the words. As a blush crept slowly across his cheeks, he stammered, "H-he did?"

North's eyes narrowed. "Yes. It remains to be seen."

"Excuse me?"

A sharp tug at his hand pulled Hiccup forward until his nose nearly touched the Russian's. The piercing blue gaze of fractured ice burned fiercely with a threatened rage.

"I warn you now," the man hissed, "If you hurt my Jack, you will be skewered on sword like Russian _shashlyk_. _Это понятно?_ Understand?"

Hiccup only nodded, a frantic bobbing of his head, his green eyes wide with terror.

"Okay, okay, North, I think that that's enough intimidation for one night," chided a light, familiar voice that instantly washed over Hiccup with relief.

A white mop of messy hair poked out around North's large belly. The pearly white teeth sparkled, but not nearly as bright as his eyes, the same ice blue as North's, if only warmer. His face radiated with a pure joy, his cheeks flushed a tinted shade of red.

Jack stepped out from behind his guardian. "Hey, Hiccup. You look nice," he greeted, soft gaze checking over Hiccup's ragged coat and beat-up brown pants.

Hiccup followed the boy's eyes downwards, meeting his shoes, and noting the brown sandals with thick brown straps wrapping over his feet. They matched his tight brown jeans that shaped his thinly muscular legs, leading up to hug his hips. Hiccup had to tear his eyes away, but just made it an inch higher. Jack wore his usual blue hoodie, only of a different selection. It opened up down the middle, the silvery zipper blending into the frost design the traveled down the seams, threaded through the hems. Underneath, a white shirt shaded with snowflakes covered his chest, the pale fabric seemingly fading into Jack's neck, traveling up the milky white skin to his beaming face. His snow-white bangs, soft as down, lifted from his forehead to frame his vibrant features, full of life.

For his credit, Hiccup only stared for about a minute, before he managed to find his breath again. "Beautiful," he murmured, barely a whisper, only a wisp of air shaped by his lips.

Jack blushed, bending his head down to hide it before peeking up at Hiccup through his bangs. "Really?"

The reply caused Hiccup to snap out of his daze, and he blinked away his confusion as his mind caught up with his speech. "I-I meant – You look nice too," he stammered, his mouth quirking into a smile, his freckles scrunching up to reveal his dorky buckteeth.

At that moment, North cleared his throat. "You two, eh, no… touchy-feely, no?"

This time Hiccup's face flushed, while Jack laughed, throwing his head back as he snorted. "No, North, I promise."

"And where are you going?"

"I don't know," Jack shrugged, "Hiccup said he had a surprise, right?"

The brunet's hair bobbed as he nodded quickly. "Yep! Don't worry, Mr. North, I'll have your nephew back by ten."

The old man cocked his eyebrow, scrutinizing the teenager in front of him. Finally, he grumbled, "Fine. Just be sure to be safe." His eyes looked pointedly to the motorcycle parked on the curb at the end of the walk.

"Yes, sir," Hiccup replied automatically. "I'll protect him with my life."

Jack felt the nerve to chuckle, "I doubt it will come to that. Stop worrying so much North." He reached up with his signature smirk on his face, patting North on the cheek.

The big man brushed the gesture off, a small smile hinting at his face. "Bah, fine. Go, have fun."

Jack beamed, "Love you, North."

The man only grunted, turning back into the house. His form disappeared, and the door shut loudly, leaving the two teenagers on the porch.

Hiccup looked plainly at the fading paint, chipping on the grain of the wood. His fists balled up in nervousness, and he could feel Jack's eyes freezing his head.

"Are you okay? We both saw you fall on the curb. How's your leg?" the white-haired boy asked, breaking the silence.

Hiccup's head snapped up, and heat suddenly rushed to his cheeks as he looked into the concerned gaze Jack delivered him.

His voice caught again, but he managed to mumble, "I-it's okay… Just a scratch…"

Jack shrugged, dropping the subject. Instead, he turned to head down the steps. "So…" he began, seemingly oblivious to the green eyes trailing over his broad back. "What's this surprise you wanted to show me?"

"Oh, nothing much…" Hiccup followed him down the walkway, falling in stride behind the other boy.

Jack scoffed, "You, my friend, are the infamous Hiccup "Horrendous" Haddock the Third, the most adorable kid in Burgess able to pull off riding a motorcycle and still date a guy like me. Anything you have is more than just 'much'."

A small roll of shoulders accompanied the snide comeback: "Well, I don't know about _infamous_, but I'm definitely able to pull of the motorcycle."

"Just barely," Jack shot back, his playful smirk decorating his face again, tugging at the corner of his mouth. He stopped next to the motorcycle, patting the back of the seat tentatively. "So we're going on a quick ride, to where?"

"You'll see. Stop being so impatient." Hiccup grabbed up his helmet, and handed Jack another, less beat-up one. "Your uncle is definitely okay with this, right?"

Another shrug, just a silent comment. "He's just been protective since… you know…" Hiccup nodded; he knew. "Did you mean it?"

Hiccup double-took, "What?"

"That you would protect me," the words slipped out awkwardly, almost doubting. The shape of "protect" softened, unsure of itself until it was too late, and Hiccup wanted to clutch Jack's shoulders, hold him close, and just reassure him constantly that he spoke the truth.

Instead, he only said, "Yes, I did," and mounted the bike. He gestured for Jack to sit behind him.

Hesitating, Jack slipped onto the back, sliding down to press against Hiccup's back.

"You comfortable?" Hiccup asked, a cocky smile forming. He felt the miniscule nod of Jack's face resting against his shoulder, and started up the engine. It roared to life between their legs, alive and beating. "How fast do you want to go?"

He could sense the smug little grin plastering Jack's face, the boy's faint freckles dashing on his cheeks. "Faster than Aster on the freeway."

Hiccup laughed, "You're going to kill us!"

"You're the one driving!"

Still chuckling, they took off down the street, dust blowing behind them on the wind in the night air.

Reluctance trailed their footsteps as they climbed the walk to the red door. It almost burned like a fire in the night, signifying the end of the day. Lightning bugs drifted in front of it, setting the romantic air. Hiccup almost sighed at the feeling, imagining the sound of a running fountain running through his mind to complete the setup.

Jack looked down at his feet, his sandals scuffed from dirt and his jeans slightly worn. Despite the obvious damage, he grinned like a maniac, trying to hide the redness on his face. He kept his hands in his pockets.

"I had a great time tonight, Hiccup," his voice sounded, soft and sincere.

"Yeah, I did too. Sorry… about Toothless, I mean. He usually doesn't run that fast–"

"Are you kidding?" Jack exclaimed, suddenly staring Hiccup full on. "He was amazing! Hiccup, I would go horseback riding with you every day if I could. I loved it!"

"You really mean that?" Hiccup asked. He never expected this, and yet it caused the happiness within his chest to finally overflow.

Jack stepped forward, and took his hands, clutching them like a rare experience. "Yes, Hiccup, I do," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. He beamed, and the urge to kiss him then and there almost took control of Hiccup's body.

He decided to take a chance, but said, "You are so beautiful."

The pale boy's neck shrank down, trying to shield his face. For a fearful moment, Hiccup reached a hand up, but stopped when Jack's smirk snapped up.

"You know… I think that North is watching from the window."

Hiccup glanced behind Jack at the window, and sure enough, the bulky shadow of Jack's uncle filled the glass frame.

"Yeah… he is…"

"You know what would really make him freak out?" Jack asked, his eyebrow quirking.

Hiccup stammered, "W-what?"

Jack leaned forward, and murmured, "This."

He traveled closer, and Hiccup found his gaze trailing to the boy's lips. They were almost as pale as the rest of his skin, only just darker, and thinly delicate. He almost feared the prospect, the aftermath, and so he closed his eyes, waiting. He felt his own mouth slightly pursing, and leaned forward himself.

"Too bad," Jack breathed, and Hiccup's eyes snapped open, "I don't hold out on the first date."

"Goodnight Hiccup!"

The door shut, leaving the poor Hiccup standing alone, still processing the last moment in his mind. A firefly blinked, the streetlights buzzing their electric current, and a final breeze blew through his hair, ruffling his bangs like a caress, leaving him to wish for just a little more time.


	2. Day 2 - Movie Swap

There is one lake in Berk. It rests inland, away from the ocean, and is crystalline clear on the surface of the ice that freezes over the surface year-round. For nine months, the ice acts as a mirror, reflecting the sky in it's cold frame, and for the remaining three, the snow blizzard remnants melt away in the dim sun, washing into small rivulets across the smooth glass. The window opens up into blackness, revealing the liquid depths below.

Hidden in a cove deep in the woods, not many of the Vikings knew about its existence, turning to their weak mead and stronger spirits to stifle their thirst. But lost in their merriment, the thought of their own lands became distant – they missed the beauty of the small valley, dipped beneath the stone cliffs graced by soft moss and bathed in sunlight.

Underneath one of the rock outcroppings, a small makeshift hut, built of driftwood, strips of leather, and broken shards of stone, stood against the blizzards of winter, the lone inhabitant looking out into the world through his hesitant lenses and small knotholes in the walls.

His hair was bleached white from the snow, permanently stained with the color of Berk. Every winter, when a rare break in the storms allowed the smallest rays of sunshine, he crept out of his hole to give his reflection a glance in the mirror lake. His own visage frightened him, and yet still it intrigued him, pulling him in through the fear.

And in the summer, he found himself lost, gazing into the black heart of the waters. Justified creations of the storms melted away, and maybe he almost hoped for the ice to break, just a little, for the drills to push through the frozen shell and bring forth the water, to let the springs explode into the air.

Only once did they shower with glory.

First, a purple blast through the air sounded like a rocket, smashing into the ice. It burst into shambles, the ice ricocheting into the air, raining down on the land around. Second, a splash, as a black dart shot from the sky, a glint of metal wrapped around the beast's neck. It flailed, once, three times, before it sank beneath the surface, down into the chilling, hungry abyss.

The hermit peeked out at the water raining down, painting his cheeks with a cold shine of the lake's sweat. The effort of being broken, plunged in the heart, caused the perspiration to expire quickly, and it soon ended, with a broken mirror gaping at the clouds. Overwhelming wonder, a dangerous curiosity, wrinkled the pale cheeks of the lonely boy. He stepped out of his shelter, cautiously approaching the shore of his lake.

The beauty of his mirror fractured with a bullet wound. The emptiness of the it all disappointed him, and he found himself wishing for a redemption, wanting it to repair in the cold months to follow, as it always did. The broken came with the ugly, and he hated it, spurned it, and disregarded the loss.

When the curses rose over the ridge, he whipped back to his home, the shambles of his treasure lost until time mended the pain.

The voice belonged to another boy. His brown hair swayed down over his eyes, keeping them downcast. A metal instrument glinted in his hand, and the hermit cowered deeper into his shallow territory. The boy was alone, screaming obscenities to the air above, as his outline found the broken cracks. Two treasures lost to his mistakes, but only one retained its value to him, and he sat, abandoned in the frosted grass that lined the shore.

A single breath left the shelter, and the lonely hermit, as curious as a newborn, crouched into a predatory form, crawling forward ever so softly.

Slowly, a pale hand reached out to the brown hair.

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**A/N**: This is also a preview for a Movie Swap-ish AU I am currently planning! :D Hope you liked it!

~Renoku


	3. Day 3 - Seasons

During one time of the year, two beings celebrate the perfect harmony that befalls them. It creates a whirlwind of color, of beauty. The white frost lingers in the air, creeping through the winds that whip the dried leaves into a spiral of fire. It burns, almost, but succumbs to the cold, crumbling into the winter in multicolored snowflakes. The webs of ice paint the veins of the plant life, holding it softly in a fragile embrace. They dance, the leaves and the frost, pouring out into the world among the shattered dreams of mortality.

Life passes for the living, and yet the cycle continues unending. It always fades from its splendor, bringing with it the cold. But in that there is a beauty, invisible to all except the spirits, and those with the will to believe. During this time, there is a season of change, of rebirth, and of barren loss filled with a yearning for more.

He wants more time.

The change happens quickly. A few days, at most a couple weeks, put aside for them to entwine their gifts. They caress each other, their winds weaving out their story. Each year, after the leaves turn, the North Wind blows through. It catches the descent, and if one were to look closely, they would see the chase of the two lovers.

One, with hair as deep brown as the earth he was born from, falls through the air, drifting on the breeze, waiting for the ground to meet him. But finally, another, a pale snowflake from the high peak of the world, catches him.

After a small joyous reunion, the façade is dropped, and the distressed leaf darts out of the winter sprite's grasp, laughing with the grin of autumn. And the small twinkle in the blue eyes of the hero only brightens as he snaps his cane in the air, frostbite attacking in a leaping arc. The fight, and they love, and they know the other's forms like heaven in their grasp from millennia ago.

And these first few days of winter become gentle, with only a small amount of chilling hostility. However, once the last faded crumbs of the autumn drift away on the wind, solitary duties become a torture.

So isolated is the hero, having lost his half, that the storms rage across the very soul of his heart. They rip into the blizzards of anger and heartache. But they never subside, until the rebirth breaks through his frozen shell.

The mortality of his short life only is brought back by the hope of a new beginning. He wishes for more time, for more life.

But the cycle never ends, and their love is eternal.

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**A/N**: Ah, so short... I still have problems with this one... Oh well, it's poetic! ...Right?

Love you guys!

~Renoku


	4. Day 4 - Jealousy

Laughter echoed all around Hiccup, and he grinned up at the treetops. The noise sounded as light and free as the North Wind itself, brushing through the evergreen pines and the crimson and orange oak leaves just finishing their turns into winter. Snow-white hair danced through the branches, stripping them of the last vegetation and replacing the color with ice. In an instant, it melted down the branch into crystal spikes of warping blue. Pale feet lighted down gently onto the bark.

Jack's toes fidgeted, yearning to run on the air again, but he laughed and took the thick branch in his hand to swing down to earth. He fell with a thump on the new snow, sending flurries up around his legs. Brown leather decorated his shoulders in a cape that fanned out as the wind filled his arms. It curled around his body, embracing him through his cotton shirt and whipping through his hair. With a grin, he twirled his crook up onto his shoulder. His eyes blue eyes crinkled with joy, and he turned his gaze to the young Viking before him.

Underneath the new attention, Hiccup fidgeted, his face flushing. He gripped his arm close to his body, the furred jacket on his shoulders brushing his cheek as he looked down. Green eyes flickered up through his bangs, and they struggled to meet the blue ones. He grew sullen, scared to move his feet.

The smile faded from Jack's face. His dark eyebrows furrowed, and he gripped his staff, looking down at the ground. It flipped in his hand again to become a leaning post as he struggled to break the apparent silence between them.

But Hiccup beat him to it: "It's been a while, hasn't it?" His voice sounded tight, unlike himself, almost hesitant.

Jack nodded, and replied, "A few months. Did you miss me?"

"Yes!" Hiccup cried, suddenly breaking. His whole chest burst forth, and he closed the gap to clutch at Jack. He held him close, as a tender burn began behind his eyelids.

As his shoulders began to shake, Jack quickly bolstered, "Hey, it wasn't that long of a time…"

The body against him suddenly froze, and Hiccup pushed away. His eyes stained red from fighting tears, but he balled up his fists and bit back another sob. In his anger, he screamed, "Maybe it wasn't long for you! I bet that for you, a few months fly past like a day!" He cracked, and a wet snivel escaped his lips. He turned away, wiping his face. "I waited for you. Almost every day I came by here and I sat down and I waited. It was hell, Jack. The whole village thinks I'm crazy, or at least the ones that actually notice I'm gone. And then when you finally show up, after _ten months_ – that's right, more than a few – the first thing you have to ask is if I missed you? Of course I missed you! You're the only person in this entire damn world that bothers to pay attention to me for more than five minutes at a time!"

"Listen, Hiccup, I understand–"

"No, you don't understand! Sure, you can't be seen by anyone except me, but at least you're not a disappointment whenever someone looks at you. At least you don't screw up everything you touch. At least you have _something_ that won't get you banished for the rest of your life!"

Jack watched the boy with the heaving chest and brimming tears, and he folded his arms. "You done?" he asked plainly. When the outraged Viking opened his mouth again, he interrupted, "What are you talking about? Why would you get banished?"

Hiccup's breath caught. In the chilly air, he clutched at his arms as his anger dimmed for the moment. His fist wiped at his nose, and he stammered, "Th-three months ago… I found a dragon."

"So?" Jack tested, "You live on Berk. There are more dragons here than people."

"I… _caught_ a dragon," Hiccup amended. He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "And I kept him."

A choking noise blocked Jack's throat, and his voice gave a strangled gasp. "What?" he yelped, "Wha-where? How?"

Hiccup hugged his arms to his chest, turning in a small circle. His gaze looked deep into the forest surrounding them, over the glittering snow and hanging branches. The pines drooped down to the ground, creating dips in the white blankets. A breeze blew through his hair, and he bit his lip in contemplation. Finally, he let his arms fall to his sides, and released a misty breath to the air.

"Follow me."

They made their way through the forest, Hiccup trudging through the overgrown shrubbery and clawing branches while Jack simply flew overhead. Caution guided the journey; hesitance towards each other, and fear of being caught kept them on their toes. Every step in Hiccup's boots crunched the snow, and he sent silent curses to his companion. He knew it was unreasonable, but he blamed Jack anyway. In turn, Jack only kept a wary eye on the Viking, expecting another angry outburst at any time.

Eventually, they came upon a ridge, and Jack floated down to stand next to Hiccup. He gazed down into a small cove, with water lapping the edges of a small sandbank, and a large clearing of grass in the center. Rocks piled up into formations of tilting towers and sitting boulders on a sand field. Lines drawn in the dirt traced out scrawls of markings, leaving an indiscriminant image upon the surface.

Jack took off high above it, blue eyes searching over the drawing.

"Is that supposed to be you, Hiccup?" he called down, returning to the boy's side.

Hiccup nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

Jack folded his arms, his staff bumping against his chin. "So where's the dragon?"

"Probably hiding," Hiccup responded. He started down the cliff face to the ground below. His boots found the worn footholds easily at this point; he could have made his way in the pitch-black night.

Jack hesitated, nervously shifting on his feet, before he glided after the Viking.

The moment his pale feet touched the grass, a dark bullet shot out from behind one of the rocks. The dark form barreled into Jack' slamming him against the ground. His head smashed against the dirt, and pain shot through his skull, before he blinked away the stars from his eyes. He heard his staff clatter away on the earth. Claws gripped at his shoulders, giving him a final assault before he gazed up into the snarling face of a dragon.

The black mouth pulled back to reveal razor sharp teeth as they extended from the beast's gums. Its cat-like eyes focused, the irises narrowing before they opened again, examining its newfound prey. With a low growl, it opened its maw, combustible gas beginning to spew from its throat. Jack cowered, and he reached out for his staff, sighting it just beyond his fingertips.

"Stop!" cried Hiccup. He leapt forward, grabbing the dragon's shoulder. "Toothless, stop! He's a friend!"

The creature froze, the fumes dispersing around its mouth. Abruptly, it twisted, turning its cat eyes into an apologizing stare directed at Hiccup.

The Viking released its hold on the dragon, breathing heavily. The claws left Jack's shoulders, and the dragon padded next to Hiccup's side.

Jack picked himself up slowly, trembling as he bent to grab his staff. The dragon snarled again and fell into an attack position. Hiccup yelped, jumping onto its nose and pushing him down.

Jack's arms snapped before him in defense. He aimed his staff along his jawline, gripping the wood until his knuckles turned white.

"Your – your dragon just tried to kill me!" he gasped.

Hiccup stepped between the two, guarding the dragon with his body. "He's just scared, Jack. He hasn't seen another human besides me for the past three months! He's injured, and he needed to protect himself."

A strained silence fell between the two, only broken by low growls from the dragon.

Finally, Jack relented his stance, dropping his staff to his side. "He's hurt?"

Hiccup's chest deflated in relief, and he stepped forward. "Not anymore," he reassured, "I helped him, but he can't fly without me. He lost half of his tail. I built a saddle and prosthetic for him, and it's not much, but it works."

Jack nodded, looking around the dragon at the leather fan unfurling behind the dragon. He murmured, "Yeah, you're good at that stuff…"

The brunet felt his cheeks begin to burn red, but he rushed forward, seizing Jack's hand. The sprite stumbled, tugged forward by his friend.

"Here, his name is Toothless," Hiccup said, pulling Jack's hand towards the dragon.

Toothless sat placidly, his sharp gaze studying Jack thoroughly.

"Wait, what?" Jack protested.

But then his fingers found Toothless' scales. Jack gasped in wonder, placing his hand fully between the dragon's eyes. He set his staff away, taking his other hand to Toothless' chin.

"Ooh," he breathed, "He's amazing."

Hiccup hummed in agreement, patting Toothless fondly. "Jack," he began, "I've been thinking… Take me with you."

The pale fingers froze against the black scales. "What?" Jack blinked, backing away from them both. "Are you crazy?"

"Please, Jack," Hiccup pleaded, "I have Toothless! We won't get in your way, and we'll help you, and then you'll have someone to talk to, and… Please, just get us away from here."

Jack leveled his blue gaze at the boy. "The answer is no."

As he began to turn away, Hiccup leapt forward again. "Why not?" Jack ignored him, and knelt to take off. "Don't leave!" Hiccup cried, grabbing Jack's cape. "Answer me!"

"Because you're lucky!" Jack shouted, slamming his staff against the ground as he whipped his body around to face Hiccup. Toothless snarled again, but Hiccup held up a hand to stop him.

"You're lucky," Jack repeated, his blue eyes becoming watery as they brimmed with tears. He blinked them away, clutching a hand to the back of his head.

Hiccup balled his fists, and said, "What makes you think that?"

"You have a family!" Jack yelled, "You have people that love you, and care about you. You have people that can see you!"

"See me? You think they can see me?" Hiccup asked indignantly. He thrust a hand out wildly, gesturing to the world. "They don't even notice me! You think they care about me? They don't give a damn about where I am, if I'm even alive. If I never went back, do you think that they'll bother to look for me?"

"Oh, come on," Jack groaned. "Sure, you're life isn't perfect, but at least you've got one! I'm stuck forever throwing snowballs to people that don't even know I exist!"

"I know you exist!" Hiccup rushed forward in rage, seizing Jack's shoulders as he shook him. "I'm here, and I'm real! You can live forever! You can leave and do whatever you want for eternity!"

"And you're going to die one day!"

They stopped, both clutching at each other as they fought. Jack's chest heaved, and the tears finally broke, running down his cheeks. He gave a sob, and hugged Hiccup to his chest, burying his face into the boy's neck.

"You're going to die," he choked, "And I'm going to have to watch. You're going to grow up, and get married, and have kids, and then one day, you're going to die. And I would do anything to be able to die with you."

Hiccup gripped Jack to him close, and he gritted his teeth to prevent crying as well.

"I love you, Hiccup."

Jack's back shook gently as his weeping subsided, and Hiccup's breath frosted into the air, his eyes wide at the words. They stood like that for several moments.

Snow began to drift down around them, reflected off of Jack's heart. It lighted in Hiccup's hair, melting on his reddened cheeks. His throat opened and closed in an effort to speak, but no sound emerged.

Finally, he gasped, "I want to come with you."

Jack shook his head, still hidden under Hiccup's chin.

"Please, Jack. I have no life here. When they find out about Toothless, then we'll both be in danger, and you might not be around then. I've wished every day that I could fly away from here like you. And now I can. Please," he begged quietly, "Let me come with you."

Suddenly, another voice called from above the ravine. "Hiccup?"

The Viking boy stiffened, startled. "Astrid?" he whispered. His face went slack. "Jack, we need to leave. Now."

Jack shook his head again. "No. I have to leave."

"She can't see you, Jack. She can see me, and Toothless. Let me come with you, now."

"Hiccup?" her voice called again, closer.

"Jack, please," Hiccup begged, squeezing the sprite's shoulders so tight as to draw blood, if Jack had any to lose. When he didn't respond, Hiccup cursed. He pushed Jack away. "Fine," he slandered, "Fine. If you won't let me come with you, I'll just go myself. There's nothing left for me here, anyway."

He climbed up on Toothless' back, strapping his foot into the stirrup. He adjusted several straps about his waist, looking back to give the tail fan an examination. Satisfied, he gripped the saddle before him.

"Come on, Toothless." He looked back down at Jack, his green gaze wet with finality. "You're the lucky one, Jack. You have someone who loves you every moment you're gone."

Toothless shot up into the air, just as a blonde Viking burst out of the brush.

"Hiccup?" she called. Her mouth hung open in shock. "Hiccup? Is that a dragon? Hiccup? Hiccup! Get back here!" The boy only sped away faster, and Astrid shouted after him, "Traitor! You're a rat!" Her voice broke, and she gasped away the tears.

Chest heaving, she reached behind her as Toothless took a small dip in the air. Her battle-ax swung into her grip, and she took the leather strap in her hand. It took a large arc, before she whirled it, spinning it in her grasp. She gave a loud grunt, and it flew from her grasp after the dragon.

A white dart, invisible to her eye, reached the weapon first. Wood struck the metal away, and it fell from the sky with a flurry of snow, and the strangled cry of the shattered winter met her ears.

Astrid's nails bit into the palms of her hands, and anger shook through her body. Tearing from her throat, she screamed, "You aren't a Viking! You were never a Viking! I should have known you were a coward! Don't you ever show your face here again! Do you hear me Hiccup? Never again!"

She broke into a sob, falling to her knees.

Up high in the air, Hiccup released his own tears, and they froze on the wind, as a winter sprite appeared beside him, burning with the envy of mortality.

* * *

**A/N**: Why are my endings always so overdramatic? Like my Author's Notes.

Anyways, thank you for reading! Love you!

~Renoku


	5. Day 5 - Dark HiJack

The dark prison smelled of damp fur and deceased spirits. Demons haunted the underground caverns of Venice, the beasts of legend, of nightmares. Black sand morphed into the fears of mortals, whinnying the echoes of crying pains and screeching monsters. The horses struggled in their stables, fighting to escape into the open shadows. Their outraged labors beat against the stone floors that twisted throughout the Escher staircases and tar canals. Fissures littered the space, falling to the depths of hell. And in the midst of it all, a single prisoner slowly lost his sanity to the Nightmare King.

The moaning grief of the lost Viking traveled through the hallucinations.

"No… Make it stop…"

He lay ragged on the brickwork. The sand glittered evilly before him, barring his cage high above the rocky walkways far beneath him. Cold sweat dripped down his brow, staining his face in clean streaks against the dried dirt and tarnished salt. His lips were bitten raw, his nails reduced to bloodied stumps from scratching aimlessly on the jagged floor. After months, however, he now cowered lowly in the shadows, as tendrils of unease caressed his skin, wrapping him in the seductive incubi he found himself falling prey to.

"No…" he groaned, tasting blood on his tongue. An outburst of terror shot through his mind, striking him like lightning, and he screamed, "No! It hurts! MAKE IT STOP! IT HURTS!" His voice broke into a sob while his hands beat against the bars, and he slumped down in hopelessness.

"Now, is that any way to behave?"

The beast faded into sight, dropped out of the shadows from the heavenly world of the mortals, back from a glorious haunting. The terror rolled off of him, leaking from his greasy pores and scented on his breath. He drank the ecstasy by the family, tormenting the life above with every fiber of his twisted soul. Who could blame the poor man – however he appeared, he still kept his humanity, no matter how far he locked it away in the pit of blackness he had the false decency to call a heart.

He grinned with his crooked teeth, ticking his finger at the bars. "Didn't your mother ever teach you how to act as a guest?" A dawn of inspiration lit up his gray face, and he gave a great sigh. "Oh, wait, I meant your father. But then again, he never really was one for manners, is he? Not much for parenting either; such a shame." Suddenly, he clutched at the bars, rage flowing from him like sticky tar. But it subsided, and he sneered, "So who did you talk to, then? A little runt like you probably didn't have many friends. Not that you need any. Just look at me – I'm doing just fine without them!" He chuckled, sliding a thin finger through the bars.

Hiccup shifted away, but yelped as sharp sand bit his back. He threw himself forward, and Pitch caught his chin in his clammy hand.

The Boogeyman yanked him forward against the cage door. Tears sprang to Hiccup's eyes as the sand sawed away at his cheeks, drawing rivulets of blood to fall down his dirtied skin.

Pitch cooed, "But it does get lonely, you know, just a little. For someone as beaten and humble as myself, why, who would ever want to spend time with the monster known as _the Boogeyman_." He broke off into a snarl. "I had glory once! I'm the King of Fear, of Nightmares for heaven's sake! Don't I deserve some recognition for what I do? Don't I deserve a friend?" he finished, back to his sickeningly sweet charade.

His other hand reached out to brush Hiccup's hair covetously. The boy flinched, aghast at the contact with the demon. Pitch scowled, and he shoved the Viking away, slamming him back into the cage. Hiccup coughed, wiping his face with his arm. Blood stained his sleeve, scraped into his skin by the black sand speckled in the warm liquid. It burned, but he gasped away the pain behind his eyes.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, choking through his strangled breath.

"Didn't you hear me? All I want is a friend," replied Pitch, straightening up next to the cage. He began to pace, lost in his thoughts. "I've tried before, yes, with that little frost brat of yours."

Hiccup's brows furrowed. He slowly sat up, all his attention focused on the man before him. "What did you do to Jack?" he asked.

Pitch froze, and slowly, like a creaking gargoyle, he turned back to the cage. His gaze became positively toxic, and he sneered, "You _care_ for him, don't you? Ha! For once, that loathsome little icicle has some support!" Pitch reared back, laughing. Abruptly, he snapped forward, seizing the bars of the cage. "Well, I'll just have to change that, won't I?"

His form began to melt, bleeding through the poles, and he crept forward into the prison. Claws shaped at his fingertips, scratching at the floor. Hiccup attempted to struggle away, but Pitch clutched at his face, wiping the blood away on his thumb.

He tasted it, relishing in the fresh horror alive and burning in the warm fluid. "It seems," he began, "that the boy will not betray his company of buffoons for the promise of exaltation." He sighed as the life trickled down his throat. "Manipulation won't work with the frozen imp. I suppose I'll just have to try using force."

He lunged, stabbing his nails into Hiccup's skin. The boy cried out, tears finally pouring form his eyes. Black shadows channeled down Pitch's arm, through his oozing veins of hatred and greed. Clouds of sand tipped over into Hiccup's body, rolling over the freckles as pain shot through his limbs. He squeezed his green eyes shut, screaming for mercy. His throat shouted itself raw, torn from the agony in his soul. The darkness rushed through his bloodstream, pinpointing his heart.

Finally, there was silence.

The nightmares all stopped to listen. Pitch backed away, breathing heavily from the exertion of his power. He stared down at his hands as they shook, before stowing them away at his sides. Eclipsed eyes turned their attention to the Viking on the ground.

He lay in a heap, heart pounding loudly through the quiet. After an eternity of hushed anticipation, he released a shuddering lament. His eyes snapped open, staring into the darkness.

They glinted as golden as the world's greatest treasure, and as cold as the metal it was born of.

* * *

**A/N**: This was fun. I like torturing fictional character. :3

This is also a scene that will be sort-of in _Revival_ for those that are reading that fic. (I am still working on it, but I took a long break for HiJack Week.)

Love you guys!  
~Renoku


	6. Day 6 - Secret Admirer

It started, like many things, with a dream.

The taste of smoke, full of warm ash and burning flame, filled his mouth, rolling over his tongue. Heat flared against his body, his fingers clawing at the form against him, and he pulled it close until he could feel it melting his frozen skin. Aching breaths of passion and gasps hinting tears washed through his hearing. He could smell the musk of sweat and damp cloth around him. His eyes clamped shut, but he squinted through the haze to the view of brown hair and creamy, freckled skin. Green eyes snapped open to stare at him, clouded with the fulfillment that exploded in his chest. He looked down into the gaze of love, and suddenly everything became worth it.

Jack cried out, and he awoke.

He bolted upright, dispersing the golden sand swarming his white hair. The particles swept into his nose, and he sneezed, waving a hand away. His support on the peaked roof slipped, and he tumbled down the sloped surface. He yelped as he fell off of the edge, landing hard in a snowdrift piled against the wooden wall. Flakes of the loose powder flew into the air, as Jack sat up, rubbing his back.

"Ow," he groaned, and he turned his attention to the sky at the gold tendrils of dust flowing through the air. "I blame you, Sandman." He began to stand up, muttering under his breath, "What was that even about? Stupid dreams…"

But they made him happy, he knew. After every one of the reveries, he awoke well rested and content. The blush faded from his cheeks eventually, however, and then he fell into derision, wishing for the visions to be real, instead of just a creation of his and Sandy's minds.

Sighing, Jack bent to retrieve his staff from the dried pine nettles littered beneath the thin layer of snow. He flipped it up onto his shoulder, kicking lightly at the dirt. Sharp jabs of pain poked into his feet, but he ignored them, used to feeling worse. At the moment, his chest throbbed with a burning discomfort, as if his ribs hooked onto his lungs. As a spirit, it only caused annoyance, nothing life-threatening.

He decided to focus on the breaking dawn.

"Where am I anyway?" he murmured.

The night before, Jack created a blizzard over the small island, deciding at the last minute to pester the tough Viking inhabitants. In consequence, he dropped out of the sky like an icicle, only cushioned by last-minute work on Sanderson's part – not that either would acknowledge the event. Storms provided easy release of building emotions and delivered entertainment to the unseen sprite. He rarely hurt the humans, unlike the other winter spirits, but on occasion caused the nipping cold that lasted in a man's throat for a few days.

Looking around himself, Jack saw the center of the Viking village. A marketplace emitting the strong smell of fish rested next to the living quarters that extended throughout the town to the harbor. A towering arena rose above the rooftops, just the very peak of the domed cage visible from his position. Next to the rise he stood atop of, a smith's forge smoked lightly from the chimney pipe. On his other side he saw the doors to a great hall bearing down on the village square. The entire place lay buried beneath mounds of snow, lining the streets as a crystal road.

But the peace broke quickly, just as the first rays of sunlight broke above the ocean horizon.

The door of the building behind Jack burst open, and he stumbled as a large figure burst forth, marching down the front steps. The large, redheaded Viking stood tall over the spirit, who almost cowered out of the way before the man passed through him. A small breathless gasp left the boy's throat, involuntary even after his several decades of invisibility.

The man stood his ground, placing his hands on his hips with authority, one fist curled around the handle of his wooden shield, and the other edging towards the sword strapped to his belt. He carried an air of experience, a deadly brute force, and even in the face of this cold serenity he braced himself for battle. His red beard bristled in its braids, his green eyes narrowed down at the sleeping village.

A deep breath entered the man's chest, and he bellowed, "GOBBER!"

The word echoed over the town, rippling past Jack's ear. He stared at the man in confusion, mouthing the name on his lips quietly before another voice answered.

"Yep!" called the man that popped out of the forge next door. He waved his stump of an arm topped with a rock club, grinning underneath his braided mustache. His eyes seemed to glow as bright as the embers in his workshop, even at this early in the morning. "What is it, man?"

"Hiccup's… his leg is having some problems," the bigger man answered, his voice faltering. "Could you help him fix it?"

Gobber snorted, "Like that boy'd need my help. But no, I can't. The snow is blacking up the pipe – I can't light it without stuffing the place. You'll have to wait till tomorrow after I melt the snow and clean it all out."

"…Fine," the man replied. After a moment, he grunted, "Get to it, then."

"Yes, sir!" Gobber retorted almost mockingly, before he disappeared into the forge.

Jack followed the big man; reminiscent of the stories he'd heard of Nicholas St. North. He tailed him as they returned into the house. The large doors closed behind him, startling Jack, and he jumped forward through the man.

He looked around himself in awe. A large fireplace took up one side of the room, lit and crackling. Handmade furniture sat around the room, and a door led off to what looked like a small workshop. It reminded him of something, deep in the back of his mind, but he shook the feeling off.

The big man continued up the wooden stairs, and they creaked beneath his weight. Jack let his feet fall to the floor without the influence of the wind. He crept after the man, needlessly silent out of respect for the home. The Viking seemed preoccupied, worried.

He knocked on a door near the top, and the fast sound of shuffling sheets and a small grunt sounded before a young voice called, "Yeah, Dad?"

"Hiccup?" asked the man, pushing into the room. "Er, son… Gobber said the forges weren't ready today, so he'll help you tomorrow. Is that… okay? Is your leg okay?" The man shuffled on his feet as he spoke, not fitting his stature.

"Yeah, that's fine Dad. I just twisted it yesterday, and now it's frozen, so I can't walk, but I can manage for a day. Thanks," the boy answered.

He sat on his bed, the sheets pooling around his knees as he sat up in the bed. A pale linen shirt covered his scrawny chest, and similar pants adorned his legs. His foot stuck out from under the blankets, ending in a cold metal prosthetic, frozen over with small beads of frost. The iron had a warped curve in it, as if he'd fallen on it hard.

Jack stared in shock at the freckled face. Long brown hair fell across the boy's face, but he raised a hand to shift his bangs away, revealing leaf-green eyes, glittering in shy appreciation at the attention his father paid him. The winter sprite in turn nearly choked on an unnecessary breath.

"Oh," mumbled the man, "Alright. Well, I'll just, ah, leave you then. Got to… wake the village, and such." He cleared his throat. "Er… Bye."

The man left, leaving Jack alone in the room with the boy.

The smaller Viking sighed, and looked over at the window. The dawn fell across his face, curtaining his skin with small beams of pale yellow.

"I wonder what Toothless is doing…" he muttered. "I should have made him come home…"

Jack approached slowly, still in shock at seeing the face from his mind. "You're real?" he breathed. He shook his head, and started over, "You're name is Hiccup?"

Hiccup didn't respond. Apparently, like everyone else, he couldn't see Jack.

Jack cursed. "What – what do I do with this?" He cast his eyes to the window. "I… I have to do something…"

The decision came as a final realization.

"I have to make him see me."

* * *

**A/N**: So... that was a very rushed and OOC ending. I was late getting this fic done, and I just needed to get it out there, so I rushed it. I really want to continue this as a multi-chapter fic now, though.

So, Toothless is in the cove, for those wondering. And what happens is JAck basically stalks Hiccup for awhile. Yeah.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! And either today or tomorrow or sometime this week, I will be updating LtL, and possibly Revival.

Love you!  
~Renoku


	7. Day 7 - General AU - Hunger Games AU

The cannon booms, the sound echoing through the Arena. It bounces off of the water in ripples, and rustles the fluttering leaves in the cool evening air. The sound wave ricochets through the gaps between the rocks concealing the cave as it synchronizes with the moonbeams leaking in through the cavern roof.

My green eyes snap open, and I sit bolt upright in my sleeping bag.

Another tribute is dead. There are only six of us left.

That large accented boy from District 11 disappeared into those fields right after the bloodbath, and I haven't seen him since. Aster was his name. His muscle will be dangerous; he has rippling biceps, even larger than the Career from District 2.

Pitch, the bloodthirsty crowned prince, especially after the other Career from District 1, Sanderson, had died, proved to be a threat. Training from the day he could walk – he knows how to use a sword, I can give him that. If anyone kills him in these games, I want to be the one to do it.

And even more sadistic is his partner, Astrid. She wields her giant club and he small hunting knives in order to gut the other tributes. I think she lives off of their screams. I thought she was pretty at first – now she haunts my nightmares.

The fourth tribute left… is the boy from District Five. Toothless: the jet-black haired boy with the cat-like green eyes that stared out from underneath the brush and the shrubbery at the rest of the Games. He'd run off into the forest as soon as the bombs deactivated, and I'd followed shortly after grabbing a pack, ignoring the advice of Gobber as per usual. We collided, and then he fled. I saw him during training, and I know he can survive. I hope he survives long enough, and dies quickly.

I count myself as the fifth tribute, and then I look down at the form next to me. He shares my sleeping bag, my tribute partner. His white hair glimmers a little in the moonlight, leftover from his efforts at camouflage. Being the baker's son gave the boy an advantage with painting, somehow. He'd volunteered for his little brother, Jamie. He'll make it back. We both will.

"Is the famed Boy on Fire scared of a little thunder?"

I jump again at the sound of his rough, weakened voice. His blue eyes glint up at me mischievously, even in the pain from his fever, and I can see the playfulness in his gaze.

"Don't call me that," I snap.

"But you looked so nice in that costume."

"You're the one on fire right now, Jack." I reach out a hand to touch his forehead, and he winces.

"Ouch," he hissed, "You're hot."

"No, you are. Roll over," I command.

He complies, revealing the gashed wound down his pale leg, tearing through his pants. I've cleaned the clotting blood from the area, but the fabric is stained deeply. Red, irritated flesh glares out at me from the sword bite. It looks infected, and smells even worse.

"Any better?" Jack asks, his voice a sore whisper.

"Yeah," I lie. "Just let me clean it out a little…"

I take the small tin of ointment from my pack. Gobber delivered this to me after the fireballs had attacked, a cruel joke from the Gamemakers. They make the rules though, and we just play along. The green paste is nice enough, and is pure heaven on a wound.

I dig my fingers gently into the gore on Jack's leg, and he grunts a bit in discomfort. He bites his tongue, however. We've all learned to do that in District 12.

With that job finished, I return the tin back to the pack, and pick up a large container. As I move closer to Jack's head, he clamps his mouth shut, eyeing the bowl apprehensively.

I state plainly, "You need to eat, or you'll never get better."

"I'm not hungry," he retorts.

"Jack," I sigh, becoming quickly exasperated. He doesn't respond.

After a few moments, an idea occurs to me. I think back to when Gobber had delivered the broth on the silver parachute.

Hesitantly, I lean forward, and then my mouth is on his. Despite his fever, his lips are cold, and soft. I pull away before it becomes deeper.

His face is flush with minor embarrassment, although his blue eyes have that annoying glint in them. As his mouth is gaped open, I shove the spoonful of broth past his lips. He chokes at first, but swallows the liquid.

We don't say anything, and instead I offer him more soup. He accepts it this time.

After his meal, I decide to cuddle down next to him, only for protection from the cold night air. It bleeds through the rocks, and the moss doesn't help at all; neither does the wet runoff from the river that leaks on the floor.

We lay like that for a while, Jack's arm around my shoulders, and my head on his chest. He's content, and his heartbeat is steady, although he is burning beneath his clothes. I refuse to fall asleep, scared of Pitch or Astrid bursting through the rocks and murdering us in our unconsciousness.

Jack speaks first, and murmurs, "Who was it?" His voice is quiet, serious compared to his usual optimistic banter.

"I don't know," I admit, "But there are only six of us left, and I can tell you who it's not."

Jack sighs. "It must have been Toothiana, then."

I shudder against him, thinking about the colorful girl from training. She loved the knot station, and the obstacle course. She fought with two sabers. Pitch must have killed her.

We remain silent again, before Jack says, "It's not as bad as Sophie, at least."

I lock up, the images of the blonde girl from District 11 flashing in my mind. I see her singing, and hopping around at training like a Bunny. The back of her shirt always stuck out, like Jack's brother's did sometimes back at home. I see us, and how she saved me from the tracker jacker stings. And I see Sanderson's spear protruding from her stomach, and my arrow piercing the blond man's neck.

Finally, I remember the flowers, and the stones shaped like little eggs surrounding her, and I sang to her softly, not wanting to let her go. Her body left into the hovercraft. At least she'll be back with her family.

"Hiccup? Hiccup?" asks Jack, worried.

I blink, tears forming at my eyes. With a shuddering breath I wipe them away.

"Are you ready to talk about it yet?" he asks me.

I shake my head. I will never be ready.

"Alright," Jack relents. Almost immediately, he finds another joyous topic to discuss: "My leg isn't getting any better, is it?"

After a moment, I reply, "No. It's infected."

He looks down at me on his chest, his eyes calculating. "Damn," he states, "That's bad."

I almost want to laugh, but I stifle it along with my sadness. "Not really. We just need… something."

He gives a great groan, and I can tell he wants me off of him. I don't move, though, and I know he's incapable of moving me himself.

"What's the point?" he exclaims. "We're going to die here anyway. They'll kill us off soon, or make some other rule for the Capitol entertainment."

"You're not serious, are you, Jack?"

"I am! Look at me! I can't walk! And you're stuck here with me." The realization dawns on his face, and I shake my head, already knowing his next words. "Leave, Hiccup. Go on without me."

"No," I deny quickly. "I won't do that."

"We're not both going to survive here, and the one that has at least a chance of doing so is you. Go."

"Jack, I can't do that. They said we could both win! We just have to get you better, and then we can both fight!"

Jack sighed, "I'm only holding you back, Hiccup. Leave me."

"Why do you want me to live so badly?"

"Because I love you!" he exploded.

The water drips down the cave walls from the river outside.

"God, are you thick? I love you, I even said it at the interviews."

He did. In front of the entire nation, he told them that he loves me and I hurt him for it. And now we're the star-crossed lovers of District 12. I almost want to puke. But I can't.

"I definitely can't leave you, now."

* * *

**A/N**: WOAH HOW DID I FORGET TO POST THIS

I WROTE IT AND SUBMITTED IT TO THE HIJACK BLOG

BUT I FORGOT TO UPLOAD IT HERE

I AM SO SORRY

This was a Hunger Games AU, in which Jack is Peeta and Hiccup is Katniss. I really want to do this with Jackrabbit now, though, with Jack as Katniss and Bunny as Peeta... *plotbunnies are now birthed*

I am so sorry that I didn't post this here! It's not much, but I hope you liked it!  
Love you guys!  
~Renoku


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